Liam Barr

How many of the things you feared have actually turned up?
Most never came. You spent the nights worrying anyway.

Now count the other pile. The trouble that did arrive.
How much of it started with something you said too fast or a mood you let run the day?

Both piles are yours.
One you imagined. One you made.
Neither one grew without you.

Enough of that.

Not more discipline. One question asked while it's still happening.
Why am I so sure about this. What am I actually angry at.

Ask it early and it costs you a minute.
Ask it later and it's called regret.

A good line lands and it feels like you've learned something.
The words fit. You keep them.

They have been passed around for a long time though.
Reworded, renamed, handed on by people who were never trying to be first.
They just wanted something that worked.

Which takes the pressure off.

You don't have to say it better.
You don't really have to say it at all.

The version that's yours is whatever still holds when you're tired.
When you're running late and the answer you wanted never came.
That's the bit nobody can hand you.

The words travel fine on their own.
It's what you do with them that has your name on it.

There's something you could do today that would make someone's life a little easier.
You've already thought of it.

But you're waiting for the version that counts.
The cheque big enough to dent the problem.
The whole year of Saturdays and not just this one.
The cause that's already well run before you arrive.

So nothing happens.
And the waiting feels principled.

The good available today is small enough to fit in an afternoon.
Nobody would hear about it.

You're not waiting to make a difference.
You're waiting to make one worth mentioning.

Do what you can, now.
However small.